


at the edges of my mind

by edithkay



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Black Speech, Dale - Freeform, Durin Family Feels, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Elf Culture & Customs, Erebor, Gen, Gundabad, Hurt/Comfort, Imprisonment, Mental Health Issues, Mirkwood, Multi, On the Run, Recovery, Reunions, Torture, tags will be updated as story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27553573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edithkay/pseuds/edithkay
Summary: “This is how she spends the next few years, decades, of her life, until it all blends together, and there’s no more room in the stone to tally out the days, with only the screeches of war bats to keep her company. Eventually she learns that she’s not the only one in this accursed place, but none of them last for longer than a month. The first was a Man from Dale, who is brought in with almost no struggle and is missing half an arm. He goes on and on about fire and a dragon until the guards drag him away, screaming.”The world is a cruel place, and her small part of it even more so. But perhaps, even light can be found in the uttermost darkness.
Relationships: Dís & Thráin II, Thorin Oakenshield & Thráin II, Thranduil/Thranduil's Wife, Thráin & Thranduil’s Wife, Thráin II/Thráin II's Wife (mentioned)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	at the edges of my mind

The guards normally change posts in groups of three.

After being here so long, she’s learned the routine of things. Wake up call is just before dawn and the next half hour or so is spent waking up the stronghold. Her cell is a cramped, suffocating space located near the top of the fortress; the wind is the fiercest here, yet the occasional shout of Black Speech echoes all the same. By the time the sun is already cresting the horizon, drills are being run and she’s taken in for interrogation. Urdid likes to remind her that they normally don’t take prisoners, but she’s a special case. A _filavhausan parar_ and _ul armauk_ but it doesn’t matter. If there are others, they are kept out of sight.

Anymore of this and she’ll be on to the halls of Mandos, surely. 

Midday break is a rather unsavory meal of stale bread and water, which despite the hunger gnawing at her stomach, is eaten sparingly. There may not be food for a few days afterwards, and orcs seem to have a disturbing fascination for watching the suffering of others. She settles against the back wall of her cell, waiting until the familiar horn blows, and the three guards posted — one at her cell door and the other two at the entrance to the wing — take up arms and single file march from their posts, until the next shift comes in. Occasionally, one of them may shout something expecting an answer, but she’s learned better. Any attempts at being snippy usually end with a thwack to the mouth and a split lip. 

The rest of her days are spent almost in slow motion. She’s been in captivity for a few months, perhaps, maybe more. The routine is designed to dull the senses and detach the mind. Evening has her dragged back to Urdid, and he has that expression on his face again — eyes gleaming and almost undetectable smirk — which brings with it the promise of pain. He asks her the same questions: secrets of state, information on her family and whatnot, until he bores of her silence. From then on its lashes to her back. Forty is the lucky number, but perhaps she’ll receive fifty if Urdid is particularly vindictive that day. Early into her imprisonment, when there was still hope of rescue and her eyes were fire-bright, she spat and cursed all sorts of things, until one day Urdid had had enough and cut her hair… 

_“Less of you that I ‘ave to tolerate. I think we’ll keep it this way, short and to your chin.” Was spoken in thickly accented Common Tongue, the words rolling from his mouth in a slur._

She learned to stay silent, from then on. Urdid won’t have the satisfaction of hearing her agony.

Urdid decides he hasn’t made any progress, and she’s walked deeper into the bowels of Gundabad into what passes as an infirmary here. A foul smelling liquid clears the blood from her sallow skin and is pressed into the wounds. The sensation is akin to a hot fire-poker, which makes her scream until she’s hoarse and twitching from pain.

The moon is in full view when she’s finally back in her cell, curled up on the floor with little more than a rough blanket, guaranteed to leave her already injured skin rubbed raw, come morning. The twinkling of stars seems to mock her, almost, so she turns away and faces the cell door again. When the pull of sleep does finally take her, it's to dreams that are too fragmented to make sense of; the laughter of a child, echoed with a deeper timbre that has her fuzzy all over, eyes that were a never ending pool of blue and a secret smile, so rarely seen. The memories she keeps are fiercely guarded, either by silence or distraction.

Any further thought on them will have her crying, which is more lashes from Urdid. 

This is how she spends the next few years, decades, of her life, until it all blends together, and there’s no more room in the stone to tally out the days, with only the screeches of war bats to keep her company. Eventually she learns that she’s not the only one in this accursed place, but none of them last for longer than a month. The first was a Man from Dale, who is brought in with almost no struggle and is missing half an arm. He goes on and on about fire and a dragon until the guards drag him away, screaming.

He does not scream anymore after that. 

The Man’s name is Eske, and he left behind a family. A wife and four children, three of them boys. She eventually learns that he was a soldier working in a northeast facing watchtower, and one of the first who saw the firedrake.

“The wyrm flew down from the north, aye. Myself and the few on duty that day saw it first. Not long after, Dale was set ablaze. The tower was felled, and I along with it. Whether it was chance or something else, I dare not think on it long, but I lived. Most perished in the flames that day, and I assume my wife and children were among them. Our dwelling was little more than a ruin when I went back.” His voice catches in his throat, like the words are being forced out, and that’s the end of talking. If there are the beginnings of tears in his eyes, well, it’s not her place to comment. 

Eske is around for only a few more days by her reckoning, until the guards open his cell and haul him down the flight of stairs leading to their little alcove. He manages to look back for just a second before his head disappears from view. He looked resigned, like he had made his peace with the possibility that they would not speak again. That is the last time they see each other.

She is alone again, until someone else is brought in. It’s too dark to guess who they might be, and she is kept busy enough anyways. The stranger weeps for nights on end, and feverishly mutters what might be a name. Perhaps in a language from the South if her guess is correct. They, too, are taken away. Shaking like a leaf, but their head is held strong, and what sounds like a feverish prayer in for salvation is muttered from their lips. 

There are a few over the years that she shares a connection with, but they are fleeting. An ill-attempt at some twisted form of comfort, in a place where desperation tinges the air. Quietly, in the edges of her mind that are yet untouched by pain, she grieves. But for the few that make an impression in her memory, there are countless others who do not last. 

But what does it matter? She’ll never get out anyways, and hope is a stupid thing to have when there is no reason for it.

So she waits. And waits, waits some more, through countless sunrises and sunsets. Through countless meals that barely stave her hunger, and a disillusioned perception of her world, which has shrunk to a measly four walls and a cell door.

Until the one night that brings with it the tidings of change.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into the Hobbit fandom. I’ve had this idea flitting around my head since BoFA was in theaters and I’ve finally gotten around to writing it!
> 
> Some notes:
> 
> 1\. This is most definitely AU, with some canon mixed in when its purpose suits the story. As a result, timelines, ages, etc. are largely inaccurate. However I have tried to line up the events of this story with canon as accurately as possible. 
> 
> 2\. There’s not really any robust Black Speech Dictionary that I could find, despite searching for several hours!
> 
> Filavhausan parar: filthy elf  
> Ul armauk: the enemy 
> 
> 3\. Information on Thranduil’s wife other than that she exists is, well, practically nothing, so Ive had to make some stuff up. In one of the behind the scenes clips for BOFA, it’s mentioned that Thranduil’s wife was imagined to have died either at Gundabad or nearby? For the story’s sake, assume that instead of being killed she was captured, and has been imprisoned ever since. 
> 
> 4\. This is going to be a longfic. The first few chapters are quite short and were written right around when the final movie was released, but the total length is about 150k. Also updates will be quite sporadic, sorry! I’ll try to not disappear for months at a time but life often gets in the way. 
> 
> That’s about it. Hope you all enjoy!


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